


trial by fire

by callunavulgari



Series: Holiday Writing Challenge '12 [16]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Blanket Fic, F/M, Genderswap, Rule 63, Sharing Body Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 14:37:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Close your eyes,” he breathes and instead of snarling and smacking his hand away, she lets her eyelids slide shut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	trial by fire

**Author's Note:**

> Day 16 of the Holiday Writing Challenge on tumblr [over here](http://giraffe-tier.tumblr.com/post/35469673249/winter-drawing-writing-challenge). Prompt was 'shaking from the cold'. As you can tell from this being three days late, I had some issues with it. So if it seems forced, that would be why.

By now, she’s used to being disappointed. Usually, she doesn’t go so far as to blame someone else—half the time, the things she’s disappointed with are things that she, herself, has managed to fuck up. But she’s accustomed to not being the luckiest person in the world. It’s kind of just a thing that happens. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and Elrics have shit luck.  
  
She blames it on her dad. The bad karma couldn’t have possibly come from her mom’s side. Her mom was the sweetest person ever, and to blame her for the shit that Ed’s saddled herself with is to shit upon her memory with a gusto. No, it’s definitely her dad’s fault.  
  
There’s normal Elric bad luck, which are things like getting caught in the rain or someone else grabbing the last pastry before she has to show up at the office.  
  
And then there’s the exceptionally shitty Elric bad luck, which consists of things like getting Al turned into a seven foot tall robot or failing at bringing their mom back.  
  
Currently, Ed’s night is somewhere between the two.  
  
She’s stuck in an abandoned apartment somewhere in this godforsaken town, a blizzard raging outside, and has managed to get separated from her sister, who is hopefully far, far away and not getting icy slush all over her bloodseal. The thought is almost enough to send her out into the cold again—the idea of losing Al to something as simple as snow after all they’ve been through together.  But Al’s smart, definitely smarter than her, even if the Elrics have a weakness for each other about a mile long.  
  
She can already hear Al chastising her, telling her what a stupid idea it would be. Al just has the blood seal to worry about—Ed could easily freeze to death. Fuck, she’s already freezing to death, shuddering in a cobwebbed corner of this rotten house, her breath fogging the air before her. The place where her automail meets her skin aches, the cold of the metal seeping into her skin like icy knives.  
  
She’s contemplating how bad of an idea it would be to sleep when the front door of the house rattles in its frame, the knob turning with a grating screech that makes her grit her teeth. Too fucking loud, she thinks, and then the door is shuddering open, a dark shape stumbling into view.  
  
Ed blinks at the shape. Her eyelids are heavy—too fucking heavy, and maybe the cold is getting to her too much, because the only thing she does as the figure stumbles towards her is bare her chattering teeth. Trying to raise her arm hurts too much, so she leaves it where it is, curled up against her ribcage.  
  
The figure stops a foot in front of her, raising a gloved hand to fling back its hood and—  
  
“Edward?” Roy’s voice asks her. There’s something wrong with it, she thinks. The smug-asshole-ness is missing from his tone, voice almost concerned in a way that has her hackles going up immediately.  
  
“G-great,” she hisses through chattering teeth. “I-I’m f-f-fucking s-stuck with y-you.”  
  
She still can’t make out his features all that much, so she can’t tell what face he makes. She can hear the sigh he heaves as he settles down next to her, unconcerned when she shifts away irritably. “You’re shaking, Ed,” he tells her, and she curses the darkness for not cluing her into what expression he’s got on his pompous face right now.  
  
He scoots closer to her and she hisses when his thigh presses against hers, a searing line of heat that she can feel through both layers of their pants. He’s rummaging for something in his pocket and before she knows it, his breath is on her cheek and his palm is over her eyes. “Close your eyes,” he breathes and instead of snarling and smacking his hand away, she lets her eyelids slide shut.  
  
When she opens them again, there’s a fire in a fireplace that she hadn’t noticed before, crackling faintly as it catches the sides of rotting logs.  
  
She can see his expression now, and she wishes she couldn’t. His brows are pinched with concern and he looks at her like he’s contemplating taking their clothes off and using body heat to warm her back up. She flushes, recalling her safety training and how that was actually an important part if one wanted to avoid hypothermia.  
  
As if on cue, he bites his lip and says, “We should really get you out of those wet clothes. How long have you been here?”  
  
She shrugs, becoming aware of how stiff her shoulders are—how numb the rest of her body is.  
  
His frown deepens and she growls when she recognizes the look of determination on his face. “Edward,” he says, voice somehow conveying just how damn stupid he thinks that she’s been, for sitting in wet clothes without heat in the middle of a blizzard.  
  
She sighs. She’s cold and wet and everything aches—she’s so very tired—and for the first time, she doesn’t feel like fighting with Roy about this. Normally arguing with him makes her blood run hot under her skin, it makes her feel alive. Now, it’s exhausting.  
  
It takes her a moment, fighting to pull her jacket up and over her head as he watches, eyes wide. After a moment of watching her struggle, he reaches out, hands tentative as he helps her out of the jacket and the shirt beneath it.  
  
It leaves her shivering and near naked, just a simple wrap around her chest preserving her modesty. She plucks at that too, so she doesn’t have to watch Roy shrug out of the top half of his own clothes, but it’s dry enough that removing it won’t be necessary.  
  
Without prompting, she crawls into the warmth of his arms, ignoring the concerned look he sends her and settling with her head in his lap. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asks, hand hesitating just over her head until he gives in and strokes his fingers through her hair. “I’m not used to you...”  
  
“Not fighting you over something?” she finishes sleepily. “I’m fucking tired, assface. It’ not worth it. Just help me find Al in the morning and keep your fucking hands to yourself tonight and we’ll get along just fine.”  
  
She snuggles closer, because fuck him, whatever, he’s warm. His breath catches in his throat, and she can almost hear him arguing with himself about this before he finally gives in, scooching down until their stomachs are pressed together. She can feel his breath against her scalp and she shivers, making him wrap his arms tighter around her.  
  
She closes her eyes.


End file.
